


Don't Leave Me Alone

by BooksAndDragons, Loverofchimkem, MusicalDefiance



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, Rape Recovery, Recovery, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, a really hard ride for akira that will lead to good things later on, a surprising lack of magic healing kisses, i'm serious this is a lot, slaps fic on table, this bad boy can hold so much angst and sadness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 01:50:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15546975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BooksAndDragons/pseuds/BooksAndDragons, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loverofchimkem/pseuds/Loverofchimkem, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalDefiance/pseuds/MusicalDefiance
Summary: Recovery isn't easy. In fact, it almost always gets worse before it ever gets better.There's no going back.A hurt/comfort fic response to"Don't Go Out Alone".





	Don't Leave Me Alone

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Don't Go Out Alone](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14573688) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 



> Please heed the tags. While this fic has no explicit nature, it does revolve around very serious elements. Things are going to get worse before they get better.
> 
> This is what happens when a group of friends rabidly enjoy a work of fiction, and then want to make the author feel better by finally fulfilling their wish for some comfort to their fic. This is our response. It's going to be a long ride and we plan on taking it very seriously, but we can assure you that this WILL end on a positive note. If real life people can survive through such tragic ordeals, so can our favorite boy in the world.

The shadows never had a chance.

The second the team sees him, the very moment the Phantom Thieves see Akira, held down and being completely overtaken from every angle, there isn’t any time to waste. They come forward, screeching and shouting and mowing down most of the shadows at full force before they’d even managed to shift into their true selves. Even the ones that had aren’t given any time to sustain themselves before they’re cornered and battered into nothing. No one holds back and no one has any mercy. The only downside is that Akira is victim to the action, thrown back against a table alongside whatever shadow had been on top of him. He may have conked his head, no one’s focused enough to check.

Ryuji’s the first kneeling at his side, his rage and fury only cooling in that moment to assess the damage before his eyes, even when he _absolutely_ doesn’t want to have to. He’s grasping around for something, by the grace of god managing to find his discarded jacket nearby and draping it over Akira’s shaking and starkly naked body, praying it’ll at least give him _some_ momentary solace while his arms surround his frail frame.

The danger is over, the team is here. Akira is _safe_ and that’s all that matters now.

Ryuji wants to yell, wants to shake him, wants to berate him for ever thinking it would be a good idea to leave the rest of them behind for whatever mission he’d babbled about earlier, but he doesn’t. He can’t and wouldn't dream of it— not with that utterly terrified look plastered into Akira’s features. Not with the horrible images he just had to see before bashing his pipe into one of the shadows holding him down’s heads. It hadn’t even gotten a chance to turn around, and he’s more than ready to continue the onslaught if one of them even dares to think about trying to grab at Akira again.

The room is nothing but ashes and loud noises, fires lighting across the floors and furniture and bursts of energy soaring over their heads. The strength of their group is ferocious and beautiful when it’s combined. Especially when it’s for such an important cause.

Ann is next to them only moments later, and she’s summoning Carmen and casting diarama and an energy shower before Ryuji can even ask. The shower of calming energy soothes his wounds and the aching pains in his muscles, but he’s hardly concerned about himself. There’s still a lot of shouting happening, the noises of distortion being ripped apart accompanied in a song alongside ice crinkling and explosions.

“I’ve got your back!” Ann screams, commanding fireballs ahead of her. They shoot through the air and land in a firework in front of them.

“Thanks, Panther!” he says, his eyes not even bothering to meet hers.

Akira has Ryuji’s full attention, and the rest of the group is quick to join them both in a wide protective circle as they fight off each of the monsters peppered throughout the room. None of them want to get too close and stifle them, especially when Ryuji’s desperately trying to check and mend over their fallen leader in all the chaos, but all of them are more than ready to spring into action and protect them if the need arises.

They all know what was happening, they all saw. But none of them have the time to think too hard about that right now.

Ryuji is intensely interested by the fact that Akira looks relatively fine despite everything that occured. Only moments ago he had been surrounded, acts most foul and obscene being forced onto his body while he screamed and fought against them, and yet his skin is clear. He’s flushed and undeniably _filthy_ , but other than that there’s not a scratch on him— no gashes, no bruises, no welts. It’s like he hadn’t been through the wringer in the first place.

It’s a relieving sight if he’s honest. Maybe everything looked way worse than it actually was. Maybe they were fast enough to stop things before they could get worse, and they were already pretty bad.

“Joker, we’re here!” he shouts, trying to get his leader’s attention. “You’re safe now, everything is gunna be fine!” he reassures him, leaning closer to his face than he maybe should. He can’t help it, everything in him wants to wrap him up so tightly and keep him secured from the world around them.

Akira doesn’t respond. Instead he’s staring straight ahead, finding his gloves gripping onto the black leather that Ryuji’s swung around his body and pulling it closer over him to where all he can see of him is his head. He’s breathing through closed teeth, bared through his lips in a harsh looking snarl, his eyes wide and bulging even through his mask that’s somehow stayed on his face.

It doesn't take the group hardly any time at all to clear the room, not with the way their anger and fear for their leader is charging their efforts, allowing them to be just that much stronger and faster; whatever they need to be to ensure that that the monsters are nothing more than piles of black ooze fading into the carpet. As the last enemy falls and the smoke clears, everyone is able to breathe a sigh of relief, even while knowing that they’re not out of the woods yet— not by a long shot.

“Joker, can you hear me?” Ryuji tries more persistently when everything’s quieted. “Hey, _talk to me_ , we’re all here, man! You’re gunna be okay, alright? Everything’s gunna be _fine!_ ”

He again doesn’t say anything, and the group around the two of them is already getting restless.

“Skull, we’re losing time!” Makoto reminds him, taking a worried glance towards the hallways they’d come from. “We need to get him up and moving before more come back!”

“The palace is getting lively.” Morgana confirms, his ears twitching as he glares at the door. “We’ve basically just made a hotspot for them to corner us in.”

Of course they’re right, their time _is_ limited, more than ever now considering the commotion they’ve made. It won’t be long before more shadows arrive in place of the ones slaughtered by the thieves. Some dark, twisted part of them _wants_ more shadows to arrive, to drive their weapons so deep into monstrous flesh that they scream, to tear them apart with their personas until there’s nothing left, but there are more important things right now than petty revenge.

The real mission at hand is obvious. They need to leave with Akira _now_.

Ryuji tries again with a small push of his shoulder, “Joker, _Joker,_ come on we can’t stay here!” But again he’s met with nothing, like no one’s even there to answer him. “Joker, _Akira!”_ he yells, shifting his shoulder even more, but there’s not an ounce of a reaction.

Akira is just… shaking.

He clings to the material around him, pulled haphazardly around his naked form in a desperate manner. His knuckles turn stark white from the grip underneath his gloves, hands trembling against the coat. Even while he’s facing them, he meets none of their gazes, haunted blank eyes set forward.

“Skull…” Ann breathes, a tender hand clasping his shoulder from behind. “We might not have a choice, we need to get him out of here.”

He can tell what she’s suggesting, and he’s already hesitant. As much as he wants to give Akira the time he clearly needs to come back to himself, they really don’t have that time to spare. So Ryuji tries to back off of him and reach out with both arms, planning to pull Akira up to his feet and lift him into his arms, fully expecting for him to continue to be unresponsive like the porcelain doll he’s so perfectly portraying at the moment.

What he doesn’t expect is the broken sob that comes out of his normally stoic leader’s mouth the second he sees Ryuji move towards him again. What he doesn’t expect is for that blank stare to turn and look straight into him, nothing but terror blanketing its normally fearless gleam. It’s like he doesn’t even recognize who’s kneeling in front of him.

Ryuji hesitates, taken completely aback and blindsided by it enough to pull away instinctively. Akira’s _never_ looked at him like that before. Akira’s never looked at _anything_ like that before. It’s such an incredible change that it has his mind spinning, and in an instant he’s forgotten how to move or breathe. He has no idea what he’s supposed to do.

“A — Akira…?” he hears Ann speak softly.

“Skull, we’re running out of time!” Futaba shouts from the back of the group. And she’s right, he can hear them. There’s the sound of a flurry of feet moving somewhere in the vicinity. They could be together or separate, but it doesn’t matter either way. The longer they stay in this spot, the more danger all of them are in— the more danger Akira is in. So he bucks up, fights through that urge to back away from him as far as he can and grabs Akira, hoisting him up from the ground in one swift motion.

With that one touch, it's like a switch is flipped inside of him. Akira’s eyes still hold that same terrifying emptiness, but out of nowhere what was once an alarming sob has turned into _screams_ of utter panic. He flails his arms out wildly, simultaneously trying get away and attack anything and anyone that gets too close, even while it’s clear his body is giving out underneath him. Ryuji has to catch him before he falls, but when he does so he’s only rewarded with harsher screaming and frantic punches against his chest.

He manages to get a few good hits on Ryuji, who is once again frozen in place, struggling to reconcile the panicking teenager in his arms with the one he’s grown so close to in the past year. This isn’t the Akira he knows. The Akira he knows is cocky and shit-eating, smiling bright in the face of danger like it never bothered him in the first place. The Akira he knows is daring and stupid, cracking jokes at the wrong time and making light of even the worst situations.

This Akira is none of those things. He’s lost in the dark and terrified, a completely different version of someone that Ryuji was sure he’d seen every side of.

It’s horrifying, and makes his mouth dry and eyes sting. His heart may as well be sitting in a lead block on the floor. It’s not until he hears something moving behind the door on the other side of the room that he even remembers that their time limit is almost up.

“S… sorry Joker, but we gotta go...” he apologises, just before grabbing Akira forcefully by his arm. He tugs him closer despite the other boy’s screams of protest, slipping his other arm behind Akira’s legs — internally cringing at the wetness he feels there —  and lifting him off the ground. It takes him half a second to reposition the coat so that it can provide some semblance of modesty, making sure to keep Akira’s arms pinned down to prevent any more of his onslaughts. He can feel Akira squirming weakly against him the whole time while his legs kick and thrash, and it makes him want to vomit.

“Hang on… we’re gunna get you out of here.” he promises.

The team isn’t in the room much longer. They’re bolting out the door and attacking every shadow they spot down the halls before they can even get close. Ryuji runs in the middle, surrounded by his tank-like friends and cradling a loudly defiant Akira who’s still fighting against him. All of his movements are weakened and subdued, and Ryuji isn’t sure if it’s because he’s hurt or if all of his energy was sapped from the extent of the assault he was put through.

Either way, every bit of it that he feels and hears makes his heart want to drop into his stomach.

Despite his arms being restricted, Akira is still frantically kicking, desperate to get away, and it takes Ryuji a while to find a compromise between holding Akira so tightly that cries of pain start mixing with his screams of fear, and holding him so loosely that he can squirm free. A part of him wants nothing more that to let Akira go and give him the space he clearly needs, but that's not even close to an option right now.

He tries his hardest to keep his eyes off Akira’s body, trying to keep his focus on the path ahead of him rather than obsessively scanning over him, but it’s difficult. Despite the two layers of thick leather between them, he swears he can still feel the fluid that covers just about every square inch of available skin, whether it be blood, sweat, or… something _far_ less desirable. Just thinking about how much there is, or that it’s even there at all, is enough to make his stomach roll.

Instead, he ends up focusing on Akira’s tearstained face. It’s not much of an improvement, considering it’s only slightly less messy than the rest of him, but it’s still better than the alternative nonetheless. His eyes are just as wide and blank as they had been when the group had first found him, his hair severely matted, clung together with a drying white substance splattered here and there throughout it. The smell from it is so close to Ryuji’s face and putrid enough to make him have to breathe through his mouth.

There’s a deep red flush that extends all the way from his ears to his chest, and Ryuji curses himself because now he’s looking at Akira’s chest, watching as it rises and falls far too quickly to be healthy, shining with sweat under the ship’s uncomfortably warm lights. Ryuji has to try to shift him in his arms to get his mind off it, try to get his jacket to cover him back up like it was supposed to, but the way Akira’s positioned in his arms isn’t doing much to allow that. If he lets go he may get free and hurt himself, so the only thing he’s able to do is endure it. His eyes are curious and rebellious though, as much as he wants to look away, and every little jostle and movement of Akira’s opens the jacket just a little more.

He has to remind himself more than once not to look down. Akira’s been through enough, the _last_ thing he needs is for Ryuji to break away what little decency he has left.

And then Akira stretches his legs out when he wriggles again, and Ryuji’s eyes go straight to where he doesn’t want them to.

Akira isn’t hurt on his lower half, as much as he can tell from the glance over his eyes manage to catch, but it doesn’t make the sights any less disturbing to see. The flushed color of his skin doesn’t stop at his chest. It goes farther, coating him like a sunburn that’s overstayed its welcome, and the stains that accompany it don’t compliment it at all. It dawns on him in this moment just how covered Akira is in body fluids, and he nearly revolts at it even just from the small glimpse he gets of it. Selfishly he thinks of how nasty it is that he’s having to touch it at all, and he wants to beat himself over the head for it.

His mind wraps around the fact that the way the splatters are placed, it looks pretty evident that Akira may have climaxed at some point. Thinking about that possibility for even a second fills him with utter horror and disgust. He shakes it away, shuffling Akira in his arms to get the jacket to cover him back up again so he doesn’t have to see it anymore.

If he could tear this palace apart with his bare hands, he’d do so without hesitation.

There comes moments when Akira’s struggling lessens, sometimes to the point where he’s almost completely slack in Ryuji’s arm, but just when he seems like he’s gone Akira snaps back and resumes fighting. Each time it happens fills Ryuji with fear _—_ at least when Akira’s kicking and screaming he can be reassured that Akira’s still there, still alive, regardless of how well off he is. It’s when he goes limp and quiet that it it becomes far too easy to imagine him giving into a sweet release. If he’s honest though, he’s not really sure which he’d rather have to go through, the screaming that’s ripping his heart to pieces, or the way he stops that makes Ryuji’s heart stop just as quickly.

It’s when he hears Akira’s breath hitch though, that he really gets concerned.

“ _Please…!_ ” Akira cries once, his voice cracked and desperate. “ _Please just let me go—!_ ”

Ryuji feels something prickling at the corner of his eyes, his grip momentarily weakening as he listens to Akira while he openly begs and sobs, his cries forming words alongside all the noises being wretched from his scratchy throat. In his head the ongoing storm of unbridled fury and deep-surging protectiveness are engaged in battle, constantly fighting for control _—_ but there’s no time to consider any of that. He has to keep going, has to focus on making sure Akira’s safe and taken away from this god awful place, no matter what.

But that certainly doesn’t make it any easier to listen to. He can tell that his friends around him aren’t faring any better with it.

He forces himself to hold Akira firmer still, despite the other boy’s cries and pleas to be let go, trying his best to ignore the sick churning in his stomach as he realises just how badly Akira is shaking in his arms. They have to be getting close now, though. Futaba’s voice is in his ear yelling, the team unwavering as they round another corner, weapons brandished.

“Just _—_ Just hold on a little longer, Akira…!” He whispers sharply. “You can… you can do it, I-I know you can!”

The air is laced with fire and electricity as they move, and the closer they get to the exit the more powerful those elements become. They’re an army, marching forward and demolishing everything in their path with no mercy or hesitance, and there’s not a single moment where they can stop and allow a shadow to keep them in one place. The entire time Ryuji’s grip on Akira never weakens.

Ryuji feels like he could start crying himself when he recognises the overly extravagant staircases that he knows lead straight to the door out of the ship. Whether it’s out of frustration or glee he’s unsure. He sends another silent apology to Akira as he takes the stairs three at a time, knowing that the bouncing and jostling wouldn't be doing him any favors. Thankfully they’re back on flat ground soon and with a straight shot to the doors leading outside, no shadows in sight. He slows down ever so slightly to give Yusuke and Makoto time to open the large doors, Haru blasting at any shadows that are trying to follow from behind. Ann has her phone out even before then, fingers primed and ready to activate the Metanav as soon as they’re outside and beyond the palace’s barrier. The instant everyone makes it past, heavy doors swinging shut behind them, Ryuji feels the oh-so-familiar dizziness that comes when one crosses from one world to the other, his vision momentarily distorting before him.

It’s not until after he’s regained his balance and blinked his eyes once or twice that Ryuji realizes his hold on Akira is no longer being met with a fight, and it never resurges like it had been. When the world’s finally finished shifting and he can see straight again, he looks down to find that their leader is out cold in his arms. He’s clothed again, looking just as clean cut and flawless as he normally does, not even a speck of unspeakable body fluid covering his skin where it had once drenched him.

Ryuji can feel the gaze of the others weighing heavily on him and Akira, longing for little more than to reach forward and embrace him for themselves, to feel the solid weight in their arms and know he’s there with them. To run a hand through his hair and whisper reassurances to unhearing ears, praying their comforting words reach him in his unconsciousness _—_ but this isn’t the time nor place for it. They’re still outside the Diet Building, officers patrolling the border, and if they linger any longer they risk spiking suspicions. Carrying an unconscious teenager is risky enough; they have to get away from there, as soon as possible.

Haru places a hand on his shoulder and catches his attention. “Ryuji-kun… You did a great job back there.” He can tell she’s near tears with how red her eyes appear when he looks at her, and the tiny attempt at a reassuring smile, albeit slightly wobbly, puts a clamp around his heart. In his peripheral vision he can see that everyone around them is looking on, sharing similar appreciative looks in their gazes.

He couldn’t smile back even if he tried, but he gives her a quiet thank you anyways.

They resume the original formation they had taken in the palace, though much closer together in an attempt to avoid suspicion and to act as shields, blocking anyone's view of Akira as much as possible. The streets around them aren’t as full and busy in the evening hours, but it’s certainly enough to make a crowded group of students stick out, _especially_ with Akira in tow. The last thing they need is for somebody to point them out and send them running.

It doesn’t take long for them to arrive at the subway entrance, all of them thankful for the calming foot traffic of the station. Just imagining the reaction a crowded subway station would have about their odd-looking group is enough to get Ryuji sweating.

They sit on the benches waiting at the Hanzomon station for the train to arrive, the entire group trying to act as nonchalant as possible (and failing if the looks they’re getting is any indication). As they sit together Ryuji agonizes over small things, like how they plan to go about riding the train, or what they can do to try and hide Akira from people’s eyes. He’s fighting over positions—  the back of the car in a hidden corner so that no one can spot him, or maybe they should stand near the doors so they can bolt out as quickly as they can? Internally he knows it’s all just distractions, small little nagging ideas to keep his eyes off of Akira’s resting form and to keep himself from wandering into a dark cloud of worry. He’s admittedly pretty fearful of the unexpected at this point.

If Akira wakes up here and starts panicking again, he’s not exactly sure what they should do.

“Are we…” a small voice squeaks, and everyone looks over at Morgana, who’s made himself comfortable in Ann’s protective arms. “Are we gunna talk about what just happened back there?”

Yusuke’s expression sours, his gaze now burning a hole through the floor, “Is this really a good time to discuss such things…?”

Morgana frowns, “To be honest… I don’t know. I don’t know what to make of anything that we just saw.”

Ann looks down at the ground, eyes half closed and glistening with the promise of fresh tears.

“He’s… he’s gunna be okay, right?” Futaba asks, and suddenly the area surrounding them feels far more chilly than it did a moment ago, “This is all cognition based, right? So then… none of it was actually real, right? He should be able to pull through…”

The last sentence sounds more like a prayer than a statement, but before anyone can take the time to think much more on it, the train arrives. As the loudspeaker announces it’s arrival and the gusts of air from its rush in subside, Ryuji spots a concerned looking woman down the platform gesturing their way, and the uniformed man beside her starting to walk towards them. The rest of the groups seems to notice too, and the second the automatic doors open they bolt inside, leaving the adults behind in the dust.

Quickly coming to a decision, Ryuji herds the others towards back of the car, Makoto helping the rest of them along as he does. He smooshes himself into the corner with Akira still in his arms, supported by both walls as the rest of the group surrounds them. They try their best to look casual, checking their phones or searching through their bags, but it doesn’t hide the fact that they’re all tensed. Ryuji can’t help but look around— he makes eye contact with an older man that looks them up and down, raising an eyebrow. Ryuji laughs nervously and shoots him an unconvincing smile and a shrug, mouthing something along the lines of “track practice was rough”, but the man rolls his eyes and looks back down at his phone like he never cared in the first place. Ryuji bites his lip, just hoping that they can get off soon.

The next twenty minutes are spent sitting in nerves and uncertainty. The arrival to Yongen-Jaya’s platform can’t come soon enough.

The few moments it takes for the car to empty feels excruciating, but when it does the group sprints their way down the narrow alleys to Leblanc. As usual the cafe is still open, one or two customers still seated in the booths. Their sudden entrance is loud and almost obnoxious, and sure enough Sojiro casts the gaggle of children a questioning look as they all but burst down the door in their hurry to get inside. Makoto stays behind for a second to give a quick, if heavily diluted, version of what had happened. Her explanation boils down to something along the lines of them biting off more than they could chew and Akira taking the brunt of the damage. It’s not technically a lie and it satiates Sojiro’s curiosity for the time being. No need or desire to get into the gorey details when there’s strangers around.

Ryuji races up the stairs, bounding up them two or three at a time. There’s no hesitation, moving to Akira’s bed the second his feet land on the rickety attic floor. Silently wishing the bed was more sturdy and comfortable than he knows it is, Ryuji carefully places him there, almost dreading the way his warmth leaves his fingertips. As soon as Akira’s out of his arms though he shakes them and groans, feeling his now aching muscles cry out in a relief that he didn’t realize he needed _—_ adrenaline is one hell of a drug when your best friend, the person you love more than anyone in the world, is out like a light.

The rest of the group comes up to the attic not long after, silence falling over them all as they watch Akira take easy breaths in and out, as if they need confirmation that he can breathe at all. The air around them stills, and the tension grows thicker by the second.

It’s like sitting in a funeral home, Ryuji _hates it_.

It’s Morgana that makes the first move to break the silence as he jumps from Ann’s arms and onto the bed. “This shouldn’t have happened.” he says, almost business-like, but there’s a telltale droop to his ears and tail that detracts from the seeming formality.

Ryuji can’t help the flare of anger at the slight accusatory tone.

“What the hell were we supposed to do, damn it? He said he was gunna be right back, how were we supposed to know! Why the hell didn’t we stop him!”

“Ryuji, calm down.” Ann says quietly, her hand touching his arm.

He jerks away, “Like hell I will, this is all bullshit! I should have been there, I shouldn’t have let him effing go in the first place, and he was just _—_ ! _Gaaahhh!_ ” he yells, grabbing at his head and falling to the floor on his knees in front of the bed, teeth bared in a snarl.

“Ryuji!” Yusuke commands in a hushed tone, “Sojiro still has guests downstairs, we can’t be making a commotion right now.”

Ryuji isn’t listening though. His breathing is harsh and his eyes are shut tight, frustration and anger that he wasn’t able to let loose before clawing through his veins and shooting through every inch of his body. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right. Morgana is at least right that none of this should have happened, and yet it did, and it was all their fault. They should never have let him run off alone, should have made somebody go with him, should have thought to check up on him when he didn’t come back within five minutes like he had promised. Their energy had dwindled, and Akira’s always been stubborn and relentless, but neither of those things excuse what happened.

They should have heard Akira screaming, should have heard him calling for them. _Ryuji_ should have heard him calling for them. They have no idea how long everything was going on, despite how much Ryuji wants to believe they got there before the shadows could do any catastrophic damage. Just because he didn’t have any physical wounds doesn’t mean that everything was fine. In fact, _nothing_ is fine.

The thought of how many times Akira might have called out for him to help forces its way into Ryuji’s mind, and he could sob from that alone.

It was all their fault. It was all _his_ fault.

He feels a tender hand rest on his left shoulder, and it takes him out of his stupor momentarily enough to look over and find Makoto behind him, sharing a torn expression. “Ryuji, you did everything you could back there. There’s nothing we can do to change what happened though, it isn’t your fault.”

His eyes squint as he feels tears try to press their way through, one or two succeeding as they fall down across his cheeks. It’s almost satisfying to let them, having been letting his need to get Akira to safety drive all of his motions for the past hour or so, but now it only means he can let the pain of the situation swaddle and suffocate him until he can’t breathe. He expects it to do so without holding back. He welcomes it.

She’s wrong, it _is_ his fault.

“It’s likely that we’ve done all that we can for now…” Haru adds sheepishly, looking down at the floor with her hands folded in front of her.

No one wants to openly admit it, but she’s right. With Akira unconscious like he is, they can’t ask him questions and can’t do anything to comfort him. They can’t apologize and try to help him work through the disaster that managed to befall him. All they can do at this point is let him rest, and hope that when he wakes up they can do something to get him back to normal, at least somewhat.

Some time passes before they all quietly start to shuffle their way out, promises to regroup in the morning and discuss their next steps forward made beforehand. Ryuji and Ann are the last ones in the room with Morgana, Futaba hanging back at the entrance to the stairs to look at the corner of the ceiling for a second before climbing down to retreat to her room. Ryuji holds onto Akira’s hand with both of his, letting it sit loosely in his own as he absentmindedly allows his thumb to trace the backs of Akira’s reddened knuckles. His eyes continuously trail up and down Akira’s face, analyzing every little way it moves and winces in his sleep.

“We should probably go, Ryuji.” Ann suggests softly.

Ryuji shakes his head, “I don’t wanna leave him. Not like this, Ann…” He sniffles, taking one hand away from Akira to rub at his eye with the end of his palm. “I can’t…”

Morgana steps over, “I know you guys are upset, but for now the best thing we can do is let him rest. You’re tired too, remember? Try to take care of yourselves first, and I’ll look after him in the meantime.”

“What if he wakes up though?” Ryuji starts, and suddenly the tears are rolling down his face more prominently. “What if he needs us and we’re not here, what if something happens and we’re not there when he needs us _again_ , what if _—_ ”

“Ryuji.” Ann says again, shaking his shoulder and pulling him back from the waves. “There’s nothing we can do, Morgana’s right…”

The truth of the statement settles in his stomach and makes him queasy. The time to help him passed, and they already missed it.

Ryuji relents with a nod, sniffling again as a few more tears cascade down his face. He’s defeated and broken over it, but what other choice does he really have? Before he stands up, he scoots past Morgana and leans over to Akira’s face, placing an incredibly light kiss on the middle of his forehead just before pushing himself up from the floor. It takes him another moment before he feels ready to let go of Akira’s hand, but eventually he does, leaving it gently on the mattress and turning away before he can choose to cover Akira with himself protectively.

“We’ll be back first thing tomorrow, Mona.” Ann assures him, giving him a somber smile before turning and placing an arm around Ryuji’s drooped shoulders. “Tomorrow’s Sunday, so we’ll be here as long as we can.”

“I’ll be waiting.” he responds. “I’ll keep him safe, I promise.”

Ann nods, and soon after she leads Ryuji’s broken form down the stairs, pulling him along like a dead weight as he reluctantly makes his way out of the attic by her side. Every step away makes him feel a little weaker inside, and he can barely manage to straighten himself out before he’s downstairs and in front of Sojiro and Leblanc’s customers. At least he won’t have to hold the facade long.

Ann’s the only thing that keeps him from crumbling into a puddle the second they step outside. It’s pretty clear that she barely has stable footing herself.

* * *

 

It’s three in the morning and Futaba’s still awake, laying in her bed and staring up at the ceiling. Her room is dark, barely illuminated by the computer monitors shining with bright blue light to her left, but her eyes have adjusted and she can still see every little paint stroke on the top of her ceiling. She marvels at them, viewing how their irregularity twists and turns even though they should be uniform, and a gross thought comes to her head that she’s thinking like Inari.

She hasn’t been able to sleep, she can’t. The only reason she isn’t at her computer is because her tired eyes are failing her, and yet she can’t really bare to close them. Every time she does they betray her, filling themselves with images of Akira being tortured and used like a toy, and it makes her want to vomit every time. Girls her age shouldn’t have to see things like that, but even more so, people like Akira shouldn’t have things like that happen to him.

She thought she hated Shido before, but now she can’t even begin to describe the feeling.

She remembers the look in Akira’s eyes more than anything. There was so much fear laced in them, his pupils dilated, blown in panic as he shook, making him look like that of a lost abandoned puppy. It’s not a look on him that she’s used to, not one that she would ever expect to see even in the few months that she’s known him. Akira’s been concerned before, maybe even worried, but he’s never been so clearly and visually afraid as long as she’s been a part of the team.

She’s sick and shaky over the thought. She just wants to go back to the beginning of the day and repeat it all, erase it from the timeline and act like it never even happened.

She tries again to keep her eyes closed despite the visions that creep on the edges to haunt her. Not sleeping isn’t going to solve anything, it’ll just make her tired when she needs to be awake and ready to jump into action. Akira needs her to be strong, and she’d promised before that she would be strong for him, no matter what. It’s only a minute after she accepts this and she can already feel that she’s on the cusp of exhaustion consuming her, letting it surround her and bring her into the sleep she craves.

But something suddenly catches her attention.

Her eyes open slowly, trying to bring herself back into the real world from the sleep she’d been entering, and then she’s fixating on a sound that’s suddenly made itself present in her room. She turns her head towards her computer monitors and squints against the bright lights, noticing that one of the screens has some apparent movement that had been dormant before _—_ a group of fast moving squiggly green lines that are increasing in size by the second.

Her eyes widen _— the bugs in Leblanc_.

She jumps over to her computer in a millisecond, the high pitched noise sounding more prominent than it did from a few feet away, and the second she grabs for her headphones and places one of the cups around her ear, she can hear it. There’s panicked screeching, and the loud whines of Morgana’s voice desperately trying to fight through it.

She throws down the headphones and bolts out of her room, shoving her way into Sojiro’s bedroom across the hallway and waking him up instantly.

“Futaba _—_ !” he nearly screams, “What the hell are _—”_

“ _Sojiro! Akira needs us,_ **_now!_ ** ”

He doesn’t even take the time to question it, and they’re out the door in less than a minute.

* * *

 

It's at least an hour later before Akira calms down. Maybe it's just the exhaustion, but he's back asleep only minutes after he's stopped sobbing. He looks entirely discontented even in sleep, eyebrows furrowed and teeth bared while his body shivers in the cold. Sojiro manages to find another blanket atop one of the storage shelves and tightly tucks it around Akira to try to trap in as much heat as he can, but also partly in an attempt to keep him restrained. The less he moves in his sleep the better, and he certainly doesn't want him thrashing in a night terror and falling on the floor.

While Sojiro finishes with Akira, moving his hair from his forehead and trying to clean his face gently from all the dried tears, snot, and sweat, Futaba moves downstairs with Morgana in tow. She's shaking like a leaf as she pads down each of the steps, her bare feet making soft sounds against the worn wood.

Morgana nuzzles against her neck, "Thanks for getting here when you did. I didn't know what to do."

Futaba nods, "I... I was really worried. I kept the bugs on just incase, but I didn't think that they'd have been any use."

Morgana hums in response. "I'm really glad you thought to do that."

"...Me too."

He pauses, then asks, “Does the Chief know? Did you tell him what happened?”

She bites her lip, “No, I… I didn’t know what to say.”

He hums again, and the sound is less than enthusiastic. Futaba winces when she hears it.

She's sitting in a booth with him when Sojiro comes downstairs. She doesn't look up when he walks by, instead choosing to stare down at the table and focus on worrying her shaky fingers against a lock of her hair. He goes to sit down in the seat opposite of her with a sigh, and Morgana moves from his spot next to her and takes his place on the table, shooting a nervous glance between the two of them.

"Some night, huh?" Sojiro says almost casually with a chuckle, attempting to try and lighten the mood. Futaba doesn't give it any attention and he frowns. He sighs again, "Didn't really expect it to go like this." he adds, scratching the back of his neck.

"Y-yeah..." she breathes, still not looking up at him.

He leans his arm forward on the table. "Futaba... Do you, uh, do you know what's going on with him?" he asks. "I know the kid's had nightmares before, but this is... This was something really different wasn't it? He wouldn't even let me _touch_ him, was looking at us like he'd never seen us before in his life. This isn't something normal, is it?"

Futaba's jaw tightens. She knows it's not, but she doesn't know how to say it. She's never felt younger than in this moment, and maybe she's seen one or two more questionable and eyebrow raising things on the dark side of the internet, but _never_ like this. The images of Akira being bound and violated are burned into her mind, eyes tainted forever by the sights she'd seen. She can't get his screams out of her head, both the ones from before and only a little while ago, and it makes her want to cover her hands over her ears and fight them all until they go away.

But Sojiro is persistent, as he should be.

"Futaba, hun, you've _got_ to tell me what happened. Was this some kind of... some Metaverse thing? Did Shido's palace _do_ something to him?"

She’s shaking and nervous, like a small child being scolded for breaking a vase. Except in this case the broken object is something _far_ more valuable, and she just watched it happen instead of being the culprit. That doesn’t make it any better though, does it?

She’s at a loss for words, no matter how much she wishes they would come. How can she tell him? How could she possibly say that Akira was _—_

A tender paw touches her hand and she looks over to Morgana's torn expression, his ears flat against his head.

"We have to let him know. It's for Akira."

The tears start to fall from her eyes like a river. The dam finally cracks and bursts open, and she's sobbing as she lets her feelings of dread and despair suddenly consume her without mercy.

"Futaba..." Sojiro says softly.

"It..." she starts, having to sniffle and fight through a choking sob. "It was so bad, Sojiro... It was _so bad_...!"

He grabs her hand, his face stern. "I need you to tell me everything."

It's hard, and she struggles, but through shuddering breaths and streams of tears she tells him everything. It isn’t long before Sojiro is crying too.

**Author's Note:**

> We really hope you enjoy what we come up with. Thank you so much to our unnamed friend for writing the first fic and giving us a chance to explore something new.
> 
> Come scream at us on tumblr!  
> ["Loverofchimkem"](http://mythsrreal.tumblr.com/).  
> ["BooksAndDragons"](http://books-and-late-nights.tumblr.com/).  
> ["MusicalDefiance"](http://musicaldefiance.tumblr.com/).


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